Only Us
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Returning home from North Yorkshire with Sherlock, engaged Molly Hooper (from my Journey story) has a dream of Sherlock coming to her after Sherrinford. The dream is brought on by listening to her latest favourite song from "Dear Evan Hansen," called "Only Us." Can be read without reading my Journey story.


Thanks, M Sherlock for beta'ing

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 **Author's note 1:** This one-shot was inspired by the song "Only Us" from the musical 'Dear Evan Hansen'. I encourage you to listen to it and see if you agree that the lyrics are perfect to describe Sherlock's state of mind after Sherrinford, and what Molly's thoughts would have been, when he came to see her afterwards to explain.

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It had been a long, emotion-filled day for Molly and Sherlock, as they had visited the final resting places of his friend Victor, as well as his childhood home of Musgrave Hall in North Yorkshire.

Seeing the place where Sherlock had ended up at the conclusion of that day of vivisection, had given Molly a new understanding of just how much her fiancé had been through, and a new appreciation for the way he had changed his life since.

With their wedding now only four weeks away, Molly was glad that Sherlock had finally been able to have closure in regard to his childhood friend.

She was feeling a little sleepy and decided to listen to some music from her latest favourite soundtrack, 'Dear Evan Hansen.' One song in particular really spoke to her as fitting in regard to her relationship with Sherlock, and how he had been when he came to explain to her the reason for that phone call which had exposed her deepest feelings to him once and for all.

Sherlock's arm was around her as she put in her earbuds and leaned against his shoulder, and it wasn't long before the song, 'Only Us' played. Shortly afterwards, she drifted off to sleep.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*

 _Today had been, quite possibly, the worst day of Molly Hooper's life. Well, maybe not the worst. Several of them could have qualified for that not-so-exalted position. There was the day of Sherlock's fall, when Molly had died a thousand deaths herself beforehand, not knowing if his plan would succeed._

 _There was the day he had left for parts unknown, which had occurred a few days later, when she did not know if she would ever see him again._

 _Then of course, there was the day he had been shot, and she had feared he might not pull through._

 _Finally, there was the day she had examined him, and discovered he was killing himself with drugs._

 _It was rather interesting, that all of her worst days included Sherlock in some way._

 _The phone call though, hadn't been about just him, it had been about both of them. Professing her deepest, most profound and close-kept secret aloud to him had been like baring her soul to him. As long as the words remained unspoken, it was her little secret. Yes, there were people who probably suspected she was still in love with him, but there was a world of difference between suspecting and knowing for sure._

 _It had been a very strange call, though. Molly had never heard Sherlock sound so agitated. To her knowledge, he had never acted in any manner other than completely in control of himself and his emotions. She was used to it, and hearing him act that way today, had alerted her to the fact that something was not right._

 _She didn't understand what was happening, and the way he had abruptly ended the call after she said those words, had left her confused and heartbroken. Her only consolation was in knowing that she had made him say the words as well, which she knew must have been just as hard for him to say, coming from a man who was not well acquainted with sentiment of any kind._

 _Certainly, she knew Sherlock cared for her deeply as a friend, he had sought her out time after time for help, and he had even told her how much she mattered to him. But caring was not the same as loving someone in a romantic way._

 _Although Sherlock's second "I love you" had sounded sincere, his actions in hanging up as soon as he had gotten what he wanted from her, belied the words._

 _For hours, Molly had cried until she had no tears left and was completely drained of any feeling whatsoever. She then sat at her kitchen table, staring into space, trying to make sense of what had happened. There seemed to be no explanation, however. All she could do was hope that Sherlock would come to her at some point and explain._

 _It was almost one in the morning when she undressed slowly, automatically slipping on the chemise she always wore at night, and made her way to bed, where she fell into a restless sleep._

 _Molly was jolted awake by the sound of her bedroom door squeaking open. She sat bolt upright in bed, terrified that a burglar had made his way into her flat. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could do so, a familiar, deep voice came from the darkness._

 _"Molly, it's just me. You didn't answer my knock, so I had to pick the lock."_

 _"Couldn't this have waited until morning?" she asked drowsily, blinking several times to force her vision to clear, then noting that her digital alarm clock display read 4:14 a.m. as she reached to turn on her bedside lamp. She was shocked at the sight that met her eyes._

 _Sherlock looked positively haunted. It was his eyes. Something terrible had obviously happened. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get here any earlier. It has been a hell of a day, and night," he explained, moving closer to the bed. "I couldn't leave you hanging for any longer than necessary, after the way things ended earlier."_

 _Molly shifted in her bed to make room and patted the space next to her. "Take off your coat and sit down. Won't you tell me all about it?" she invited, even as she ached to smooth the lines of fatigue from his face._

 _He gave her a grateful look as he followed her instructions. Apparently he had feared she would not want to listen to him. He should have known better. Molly was not one to make snap judgments about anything without hearing both sides of the story, and she was willing to listen, so listen she did._

 _Sherlock explained everything that had happened to him. He had a psychotic younger sister he didn't remember who had been incarcerated in an island prison from a young age. She had enslaved her handlers and had been able to go in and out of the place, called Sherrinford, at will, causing havoc._

 _By the time Sherlock finished his explanation, Molly's head was swimming with all the information. He had explained everything except the phone call. He said his sister had arranged a series of tests designed to coax an emotional response from him, but had not elaborated further._

 _"Would you explain what led to that phone call?" she asked gently._

 _Sherlock was sitting on the bed next to her, having taken off his shoes, and now he turned to her and took one of her hands in his. He explained about the coffin in the room and the plaque on it that read "I love you."_

 _"She told me there were bombs in your flat, and that I had three minutes in which to get you to say those words, or she would detonate them. That's why I was so desperate, Molly."_

 _"I knew something wasn't right, but I have to say it hurt me a lot to say the words to you. Now you truly know how I feel, and I can't take it back."_

 _"I don't want you to take it back, Molly. It may have taken me seven years to realize it for myself, but I feel the same way. God knows, I don't deserve your love. I've hurt you so many times in the past. I've used and manipulated you for my own ends. I don't know how to prove to you that I meant it when I told you I loved you. I wouldn't blame you if you think I was just saying it to get you to say it back." He was looking at her with such an earnest, open expression on his face, and Molly had no doubt he was telling the truth._

 _She laid her other hand on top of his, willing him to understand. "Sherlock, you don't need to prove it to me. You don't even have to search for reasons why I should believe you, because I can see in your eyes that you did mean it, that you still do."_

 _"Molly," he whispered, "I'm scared that I'm not good enough for you."_

 _"You don't need to be scared of that either. You've told me before that I count and that I matter to you. Let's just say that all of the pain we felt in the past doesn't count or matter anymore. Let's just clear the slate and start over. From now on, it can be only us. Can we try that?"_

 _"You always have been able to see me. It's hard to believe though that you love me as I am. Why would someone like you want me? I'm a high-functioning sociopath, I know nothing about sentiment."_

 _Molly shifted so that she was sitting sideways. She lifted Sherlock's hand which was still securely held in her grasp, bringing it to her lips and kissing it softly. "You're not a high-functioning sociopath, Sherlock. You never have been. I still know how to see you, and I know what lies beneath the mask you show to others."_

 _Then he shifted his own body to face her. "Can we do this? Can we just let the whole world disappear for awhile? I want to learn how to love you the way you deserve to be loved." He traced her cheek with his free hand._

 _Molly gave a little laugh. "I know the perfect place to start." Her hands released his, as she too reached to touch his cheek, feeling the stubble of a man who had not had time to make himself presentable before coming to see her. That was how much she mattered to him._

 _"Tell me Molly, I'll do anything." Their gazes locked, and her breath caught at the expression on his face._

 _"You could kiss me," she said, suddenly feeling a little shy and dropping her gaze after the words were spoken._

 _His fingers moved from her cheek to lift her chin so their gazes could meet once more. His touch was so gentle, like the caress of a soft breeze on her suddenly flushed skin._

 _His words though, when they came out, were matter-of-fact. "I could do that, but it might be easier if you sit on top of the duvet with me, or I climb under it so I can do it properly. I don't particularly care to have a duvet between us, if I'm going to kiss you."_

 _The thought of having his body so close to hers was an intoxicating one, especially considering her scanty attire; but she longed for him, had always longed to know what it would be like to feel the touch of his beautifully shaped, full and sensual lips covering her own._

 _She made a decision and acted upon it. "It's too cold for me to sit on the duvet in the middle of the night. I'll let you come under the covers with me on one condition."_

 _Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "And what might that be?" he asked, and there was a silky note in his voice to which her whole body vibrated in response._ He really has no idea how much he affects me.

 _Molly's heart pounded in her chest with anticipation. "That you don't take it as an open invitation to get any other ideas. Kissing only." She knew the words had to be said. It would be too easy to lose herself in him. If she didn't set some ground rules, she knew her natural instinct would be to give herself to him, body and soul._

 _She almost laughed with relief when he gave her a shocked look. "Molly! I've never even kissed a woman before, well except for Janine, and I would hardly classify that as kissing. I am certainly not ready to take things further than that." Then he added, with a rather cheeky grin, "That isn't to say I will never be ready."_

 _Molly blushed. Thank God he has some sense, she thought, even if her traitorous heart was beating at an accelerated rate. She steeled herself to not respond to his last words, and adopted a casual tone. "You should probably take off your jacket."_

 _He shrugged out of it and slipped between the sheets, pulling Molly close, looking into her eyes. "You're the expert here, Molly. What do I do?"_

 _Molly couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Yet here he was, asking_ her _how to kiss. "Kissing isn't something you can approach scientifically, Sherlock. It's supposed to happen organically." She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, as she added, not wanting him to feel pressured, "Look, if it's too much for you right now, we can just cuddle and go to sleep."_

 _"Oh, to hell with it!" With those words, he leaned in, moving his hands to caress either side of her face, and kissed her. His lips moved over hers in a way that seemed to belie his claim of inexperience, eliciting an immediate response from her. His kiss was demanding, yet still gentle, and oh, those lips were heavenly, they covered her mouth completely, just as she had known they would. She threw her arms around Sherlock's neck, returning the embrace in full measure, abandoning herself to the joy of being with him at last, then threading her fingers through his curly hair in a way she had longed to do for years. It was such a heady experience._

 _When their lips finally parted, chests heaving in unison, Molly looked into the face of the man she adored and asked, a little unsteadily, "Why did you lie to me about your kissing experience? You kiss as if you've been doing it for years, with dozens of women. Did you spend time in your younger years kissing them?"_

 _Sherlock flushed. "Of course not, and I didn't lie to you either. I, well, I spent the ride over here looking at YouTube videos on how to kiss."_

 _Molly looked at him skeptically._ Surely no novice could kiss that way?

 _He had known exactly what to do to leave her wanting more. "Oh, come on, Sherlock. You really expect me to believe that?" she scoffed._

 _Now he looked directly into her eyes, as if pleading with her to believe him. "It's true, I swear it. Here, I'll prove it to you." He got out of the bed and went to his coat, retrieving his phone, then slid back under the covers. He turned his phone on, and a few moments later showed it to Molly._

 _To her astonishment, she saw the truth. He had brought up his YouTube history and sure enough, the last several entries were to do with kissing tips. She looked back up at him questioningly. "If you were already looking at this, why did you want me to initiate it?"_

 _"I lack the practical experience. I thought I'd ask for your help first. When it was not forthcoming, I took matters into my own hands."_

 _Molly giggled, and drew him close again. "Apparently there is some merit to approaching things in a scientific manner after all, judging by the way you seem to have mastered kissing just by researching it. Perhaps you need to teach me, because I've never felt like that with any other kiss."_

 _"Like what?" His hand was on her shoulder, warming her skin and turning her insides to jelly._

 _Now it was Molly's turn to blush. "Like I could stay in your arms, kissing you forever. Maybe even move onto other things, eventually."_

 _He raised an eyebrow. "As in next week? Next month? Once we're married?"_

If I'm not careful, I will be thinking more in terms of next minute, _she thought silently, knowing his close proximity was making it hard for her to breathe normally._

 _Instead, she forced a light laugh. "Are you proposing to me already, Sherlock Holmes?"_

 _"Not yet," was his immediate response and she felt just a little deflated. His next words however, gave her hope. "But let me make one thing clear, Molly Hooper. It might have taken me seven years to get to this point, but it won't take anywhere near that long to make it permanent. I have no intention of letting you go – ever."_

 _He kissed her again, and this time it was a kiss full of promise. Molly's heart swelled with joy. They had walked two separate paths for so long, sometimes crossing, sometimes parallel, but from now on they would walk the same path hand-in-hand, together._

 _*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*_

There was a smile on Molly's lips as she awoke to the sight of the man she loved, gently stroking her face and gazing at her with his matchless eyes that always held her spellbound.

"We're almost home, love."

He was wrong though, she was already home, because she was with him.

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 **Author's note 2:** This one-shot starts and ends with my Sherlock and Molly from "A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage". Although it is nice to see the context out of which the dream occurs, it can be read as a stand-alone story.

I hope you enjoy my first attempt at incorporating a song into a one-shot. How did you find the idea of Sherlock using YouTube to help him understand how to kiss? If he can learn how to fold serviettes into intricate designs from YouTube, why not other things?

Feedback from my readers is always appreciated.

 **Updated** with typo corrections **7/1/19** (Thanks to reader, Mrs. Firth).


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